Christian

So Close

/ bobbiblanchard / 3 Comments

When your life unfolds like a heart wrenching drama. When you get that phone call at 2 a.m., those test results come back, a uniform shows up at your door, your loved one shudders their last breath and the curtains suddenly close on that life you had and the lights fade to black. You can be sitting in that theatre surrounded by people, completely alone. And the One your soul is crying out to is silent.

I’ve talked with so many people who have walked through suffering and have recalled the same thing. During their darkest moments, biggest trials in life, God’s silence seemed to echo louder than the beating of their broken hearts. During my own darkest moments I’d pondered things I’d heard. The Footprints in the sand poem and “The teacher is always silent during a test”. Neither sat well with me. Partially because neither seemed to have any Biblical backing. I wanted real answers. Real truth. Where was He and why couldn’t I see Him, feel Him, or hear Him when I’d needed Him the most?

I recently read Ann Voscamp’s One Thousand Gifts. And I was blown away by her thoughts on a piece of scripture I’d read plenty of times before but now has been rolling around in my head for weeks.

Exodus 33:22

22 When my glory passes by, I will put you in a cleft in the rock and cover you with my hand until I have passed by.

What if, when it’s the darkest, you feel the most alone, you could have been so close to the One you needed, you could have practicallyimages (3)

Reached out

And touched…

Holy

Wait. What?

Yes, what if during those loneliest, soul wrenching, heart breaking, moments.

He was passing by

images (4)

And placed you in a cleft in a rock. Mercifully covering your eyes until He passed.

But wait, it gets better.

Exodus 33:23

23 Then I will remove my hand and you will see my back; but my face must not be seen.”

Then, when you’ve exited stage left of grief, the curtains open again to slowly reveal your new normal, and you can see. You can see His perfect timing, His masterful weaving once He’s gone by. He’d been there all along. Closer than He’s ever been.

When it had seemed like the world’s worst cliffhanger, you hadn’t been hanging to the edge of a cliff at all, but been carefully placed in a cleft instead.

And if you’re currently in the dark, achingly silent, loneliness of that cleft, patiently waiting for His glory to pass, for the chance to see, feel and hear Him again, know that He is SO CLOSE.

Blessings,

Bobbi

Baptism

/ bobbiblanchard / 4 Comments

Well, I did it! I was baptized! What a beautiful, emotional, experience shared with a loving church family and friends that came to support me. This act of obedience, this outward sign of my inner change, was a long time coming for me, and something I said just two years ago that I would never do if it meant getting up on that stage. I was wrong. Thank you Jesus! Below is the short testimony I shared, along with photos a friend took to capture this moment for me.

Baptism4

I was raised in houses devoid of faith and crumbling in brokenness. Addictions, neglect, abuse, and abandonment were the foundation of my childhood.  He who knit me together in my mother’s womb, carried me safely through and gifted me with the desire to seek love, security, and safety. The world told me where to find it. I went to college, married a wonderful man, was blessed with two happy, healthy children, had a comfortable home, two new vehicles, a savings account, college funds, the privilege of staying home to care for my family, and plans. A life better than I ever dreamed I could have.  FB_IMG_1458346556622

Imagine my surprise when I was still plagued with terrible anxiety and depression.  I was led to a therapist, Believer, and now beloved friend. Who used her gift of compassion, patience, and love to, over time, chip away at that decaying foundation to make room for something more solid. She encouraged me through the doors of the worship center where the Holy Spirit opened my eyes for the first time to the gospel, with a heart finally ready to receive it. For several years He worked in my life, laying a new foundation in Christ; A carpenter, creating a new structure of trust, faith, and belief through His word and His church. He even added a surprise room for a third happy, healthy child.

Almost two years ago I was hit by a storm in the form of genetic disorders that I know, had that new foundation not been laid, would have taken down that new structure and I would not have survived the fall. Those transient, worldly things that I had held so tightly to and was so terrified of losing? The things I was sure would bring me love, security, and safety? Some of them were washed away. Healthy kids, financial security and plans made way for true love, security, and safety in Christ. Surrendering everything I have and everything I am to my Savior (sometimes on an hourly basis) has freed me from overwhelming fear. His blueprints for my life may look vastly differently than the plans I had, but He has shown me time and again that He and His promise are trustworthy. And the love, safety, and security I searched tirelessly for can be found seated at the right hand of God. I will follow Him, wherever He takes me, all the way Home.

Acts 22:16

16 And now why do you wait? Rise and be baptized and wash away your sins, calling on his name.’

 

Baptism3

 

Spring

/ bobbiblanchard / 2 Comments

Darkness, defined, is the absence of light. Buried deep within it, immobilized by the weight, you lose sense of up or down, left or right. Scents and tastes do not penetrate. Why am I here? What do I do? How do I get out? There is a penetrating coldness that seeps in and permeates your deepest corners.

Just when the isolation threatens to consume you, you start to hear. You’re not truly alone. The warmth of the Son thaws and softens the weight. The reassuring stirring within you brings an awareness of life. In the absolute stillness you listen thoughtfully and prayerfully and gain a sense of direction. HandsThere it is, the hand to guide you. It’s been there all along, holding onto you. You just couldn’t see it. But now, you can feel it. You grab on tight. And hold onto the promise that He will never let you go. Fall

Hands and prayers lift you up. The process is painstakingly long. You’re in too deep and you’re not strong enough to make it on your own. You lose your grip. Your process is slowed. But He hasn’t lost His. Powerful, loving hands still hold yours. Words written on your heart become a mantra in your mind. Phillipians

 

Hold on.

Follow Me.

You can hear the soft rain of truth gently poured out, raining down and saturating the dark around you.

Tighten your grip.

Light

Now you can see it. The light of the Son, penetrating the darkness and overcoming it. Your path is becoming clearer and you are pushing through.

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You were not buried at all. You had been planted. You weren’t just struggling to the surface, you’d been laying roots. Roots deep enough and strong enough to hold fast to the truth planted within your heart. Tenderly sprouting to the surface, buffeted by the cool winds of spring, soaking rains and thawing snow, you strain towards the light of hope in the Son.

Roots

And rejoice in the roots sewn so deep there is promise of the strength to endure, to persevere, to grow in Christ, and bear much fruit. The darkness is fresh in your memory and there are some bruises from the battle to the surface, but the darkness did not overcome!

And now! Now you can see the beauty of His grace surrounding you. His creation coming to life, blooming in a palette no artist can capture. You can hear His birds singing His praises and smell the damp earth shrugging off the last remnants of frost.

I will bask now in the warmth of the Son, soak in every last drop of truth poured out onto me, grow roots ever deeper in Christ and bear as much fruit as He calls me to. For today is the day that the Lord has made and I will rejoice and be glad in it for His glory, and my good.

 

Food For Thought

/ bobbiblanchard / Leave a comment

spiritual milk.jpg

I encourage you to listen to the above podcast of a great message from our pastor, Mike, a few weeks ago on 1 Peter 2 in it’s entirety. However, if you are short on time, for the purposes of this particular blog, at the very least skip to about 31:45.

At about 34:20, if you listen closely, you might be able to hear me giggle and clap. Convicted. Because this image came into my mind.

birds

I’m convinced that our beloved pastor has, on occasion, looked into our congregation and seen this. If you look closely, that is me, the one on the right screaming, “feed me!”. I spent years (I know, right?) walking into that worship center waiting and begging to be “fed”. I longed for pure spiritual milk. I was dependent on someone to take a chunk of the meat of the Bible, dig into it, digest it for me, and feed it to me on a weekly basis.

This, in itself, I don’t think is a bad thing. We have all been places where, consumed with trial or suffering, we require a helping hand to “feed” us. And there are people perfectly gifted to nurture us in this way. But what happens when this is our only source of nourishment? We will have a “failure to thrive”. If you’re a parent, you know those are some of the worst feared words of a parent. There comes a time when milk is no longer sufficient to sustain your child’s growth. And, there comes a time in your walk of faith that it’s not sufficient to sustain your spiritual growth either.

So, what had stunted my own spiritual growth? Me. I had some ill conceived notions that my only source of nourishment was supposed to be corporate worship. That instruction manual was huge, and was surely meant for people gifted to read it, interpret it, and translate it into layman’s terms for “the rest” of us. Thankfully, I was pressed to take a Bible 101 class and with my first true step of obedience, I signed up. I learned some incredible things. First, I can read it. Second, He intended me to read it. And third, the more I read it, the clearer it becomes!

Another blessing in that step of obedience was the encouragement from those that were gifted to teach it and obedient in using that gift for His glory. They provided me with resources to give me the confidence to dig in on my own. Our pastor, Dave, shared a “light bulb” moment on a verse he had read just that morning for probably the hundredth time. They, too, looked up answers to questions they didn’t know. If these people still learned something new after years of study, if they still had to look up answers to questions, and still used tools to find them and consulted other Believers, then maybe I could too! Suddenly, this very large book of instructions seemed manageable and not so intimidating.

I like to think that I may have now progressed to toddlerhood. I still require supervision. I am still learning the rules and gaining the self control to follow them. I have a lot to learn, but I do know where to look for help when I need it. Some of my steps are clumsy but there is so much joy in the successful completion. I have days, okay sometimes weeks, where because of circumstances I still require a good deal of hand feeding. But now there are also days that I rejoice in some newfound taste and texture that He has revealed to me and the discovery only whets my appetite for more! Those days, I am praying hard for the next “growth spurt”!

Have you ever experienced a “plateau” of your faith? If so, what helped you move past it? What was holding you back? If you are currently, I challenge you to step out, however wobbly, in obedience. If you are actively seeking Him and His truth, He will meet you where you are, with the nourishment you need!

1 Peter 2

2 Therefore, rid yourselves of all malice and all deceit, hypocrisy, envy, and slander of every kind. 2 Like newborn babies, crave pure spiritual milk, so that by it you may grow up in your salvation, 3 now that you have tasted that the Lord is good.

Hebrews 5:12-14

12 In fact, though by this time you ought to be teachers, you need someone to teach you the elementary truths of God’s word all over again. You need milk, not solid food! 13 Anyone who lives on milk, being still an infant, is not acquainted with the teaching about righteousness. 14 But solid food is for the mature, who by constant use have trained themselves to distinguish good from evil.

 

Revelation

/ bobbiblanchard / 4 Comments

When we built our current home, my favorite room was the kitchen. After leaving my career as Electronic Data Interchange Coordinator for Chief Executive Homemaker years before, my kitchen had become my “office”. I spend most of my time there so I put a lot of thought into the layout and décor. Ten years later, I still love this space, even if it’s probably getting a little dated. The pale, warm, butter yellow walls, light oak cabinets, and accents of sage green, cream, and tan never fail to relax me. My favorite time of the day is (late) morning when warm sun pours in through windows dotted with sticky fingerprints, reflects off those yellow walls, and fills my kitchen with a sense of calm that belies the chaos it’s usually in. The counter tops are a magnet for things like forgotten homework assignments, chapstick tubes, and Hello Kitty erasers. The refrigerator is decorated with masterpieces created by grade school artists on one side, and the front sports a hard working calendar that schedules five precious souls. My “drop spot”, well organized with slots for unpaid bills, things that need to be filed, and hooks for keys is usually overflowing and accompanied by an assortment of chargers and their accompanying electronic devices. The sink is full of evidence of a well fed family and my stove top constantly needs to be cleaned because of pots that have boiled over during busy evening meal preparations. My oven is never clean for very long and the proof is the smell of apple pie drippings when you turn it on because as soon as I clean it I am guaranteed to forget to put a cookie sheet under my next pie or overflowing casserole large enough for our family. My office is not perfect. It is well worn, hard working, well loved, and the center of our home. I can only pray that it is a reflection of me, as it is the place I am most comfortable in.

I know some amazing women who diligently spend time with Jesus, every morning, in their “cloffice” or “war room”. If you’ve read some of my other posts you will know that I’m not talking about myself. My current Valley finds me with three young children and two of them now with medical concerns. I spend much of my time on the “needs” of my little family but I am slowly learning to incorporate Mom’s time with Jesus. And what I’ve discovered is that there is something special about my kitchen. Maybe because, as the esteemed Homemaker, this is my office. Or, maybe it is simply because I spend so many hours there surrounded by dirty dishes, school work, meal preparation and clean up, and the never ending scheduling required of a family of five. Or, it could very well be because it’s the place my children often avoid for fear of being put to work. Whatever the reason, I realized yesterday this seems to be the place He comes to me, and I to Him, most often.

As I’m prone to do, I was doing my morning chores, undoing the damage to my kitchen the night before, and worshiping while I worked. This time, I was singing and dancing to Third Day’s “Revelation” while emptying, filling the dishwasher, and washing pots and pans. A quick peak into the living room confirmed the toddler was content with important robot building. I had a moment to pray.

Father, please show me what to do. I can’t see the completed work of this valley, but you do. Tell me, please, do I stay or do I move? I truly need a revelation here Lord!

And once again, I was brought to the floor of my beloved kitchen. Staring at those hard wood floors Hubby labored to give me, which were currently covered in dog hair, cat hair, a few crumbs, and a Lego I would find again later with bare feet. This time though, it was with grateful tears streaming past lips curved into a smile on a face upturned in gratitude to my Father.

Child, I’ve been telling you. You just haven’t been listening.

I sat on the floor shaking my head as the pieces that had been eluding me for months rolled around and miraculously fit themselves together.

Thank you, Father!! I am so sorry for not listening. Thank you for once again pursuing me. For pouring out yet more grace and love and meeting me where I am to gently and persistently open my stubborn eyes!

You see, He had answered my prayers. Several times it turned out. But, because it wasn’t the answer I was looking for, one of the options I had in mind, I didn’t see it.

Psalm 23:3 (NIV)

3     he refreshes my soul.
He guides me along the right paths
    for his name’s sake.

Psalm 17:6 (NIV)

6 I call on you, my God, for you will answer me;
    turn your ear to me and hear my prayer.

Toddler robot construction completed, he was hungry. He may have been a little surprised to find Mom on the floor, crying and smiling. He may have even been questioning my sanity. I set him up with his lunch at the  kitchen table. As usual, he ate his pickles first and asked for more. I assured him I hadn’t lost my marbles and that he still needed to eat the rest of his lunch before he got any more pickles. Two minutes later, maybe testing my mental status, he asked again. I told him we go over this every time, just because you are looking for a different answer, doesn’t mean I’m going to change my mind. I don’t know where he gets this from?!

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ytCt8WrxDj4

Blessed

/ bobbiblanchard / 5 Comments

I ran into an old friend this morning in the line at Caribou. And because I hadn’t seen her in years, I was unshowered, devoid of a stitch of makeup, and wearing whatever was in reach as I rushed to get the kids out the door for school. If I hadn’t been plagued by a kidney stone all night I might have made a quick exit before she noticed me, but I had, and I was just desperate enough for caffeine to forgo vanity in exchange for it.

“How ARE you?! I was so sorry to see your last update.”

She had seen my Caring Bridge update the day before. The one in which I shared that our oldest son had also now been diagnosed with cerebrotendinous xanthomatosis. But, low on sleep, I thought she was referring to my Facebook post about the current battle being waged somewhere between my kidney and my bladder.

Self consciously zipping my coat up higher over my rumpled clothes, “I still haven’t passed the darn stone. Which is why I look like I just rolled out of bed. I did manage to brush my teeth though…you’re welcome!”.

“You have a kidney stone on top of everything else?! You guys just can’t catch a break, can you? I can’t believe everything you’re going through. I’m impressed you’re even out of bed!”

“Oh, it’s been a very long year and a half, for sure. But we’ve been so blessed too!”

Looking at me now like I’ve sprouted a fancy new pair of horns out of my unbrushed hair, “What?”.

“Well, I can tell you that I really can’t think of another thing that would have literally brought me to my knees as swiftly and completely as something happening to my kids.”

Confused stare.

Trying to clarify, “Well, my salvation is a pretty big blessing.”

“Oh. Sure.” She was clearly looking for a blessing a little more short sighted.

“I can assure you, if He hadn’t given me the grace to see all the good in this, I am positive I really would be in bed. Curled into the fetal position, drowning in all of the ‘What if’s’ and ‘Why me’s’!”

As understanding passed across her face, the line moved and she grabbed her coffee. “Well, I hope you feel better soon! It was nice to see you. I’ll be thinking of you guys!”.

“Thank you! Nice to see you too!”.

I was thinking about this conversation after I got home and was a little more awake. She’s not the first person that has commented on my mostly positive outlook. It occurs to me that though I update the Caring Bridge site regularly I’ve tried to keep it strictly about the facts and about the kids. So, I haven’t shared on there WHY I am hopeful and the details on how I know we’ve been blessed. I feel like I could write a book on all the ways He has demonstrated His sovereignty, grace and love to me in the past year and a half.

Let me count the ways He has loved us …

1. My salvation. This is pretty self explanatory. Though He’d revealed the Gospel to me some years before this, and had been working in my life for some time, the surrender of the things I held most dear and my dependence on Him had been slow in coming. Nothing makes a person realize their own limitations like illness!

2. Hope. My hope in eternal life.The knowledge that even if this life under the sun was crazy hard, even if He chose not to heal our daughter, even if one of our other children were effected,  EVEN IF His plan was different than mine, I could hope in my forever home.

 

James 1:12

12 Blessed is the one who perseveres under trial because, having stood the test, that person will receive the crown of life that the Lord has promised to those who love him.

My hope that no matter what the tests, specialists, and research says, our God is bigger than all of that. That the One who made the heavens and Earth had made these children as well and loved them more than a whole flock of sparrows.

3. Knowledge. Now, I’m not claiming any great IQ or anything, but He did bless me with enough intelligence to wade through hundreds of websites touting words and statistics that would make your head spin. I have a system of printing out research and case studies, highlighting the medical jargon, and translating it into layman’s terms in the margins to be able to go through and read it. I have found, with very rare disorders, that arming myself with information and verifying it with specialists has been highly beneficial.

4. Wisdom. Also, I don’t claim to any great wisdom of my own. He has not only led me to important people and information, but given me the discernment to know what I need to, when I need to know it in order to get the right care at the right time for the kids.

5. Truth. Time and time again He has poured Truth into my life. Through messages at church that seemed directly poured from His lips, to my ears. Through faith filled fellow Believers that have encouraged me and repeatedly pointed me to His word. Life giving bits of love and hope everywhere I looked! Even in the middle of the night, when pain and worry plagued me, He led me to my Bible and my knees.

6. Anxiety. Yes, the anxiety I diligently prayed relief from. So often I confessed to this anxiety, asked for forgiveness for not trusting Him, and begged that He would fill me with faith and peace. But even this, I know He made good. That anxiety fueled many sleepless nights of research, pressed me to dig deeper, look further, and to be diligent and persistent in finding medical answers. I truly believe He left this with me for our good, and His glory. Further evidence? He took it away. We’re not even close to done with hurdles and specialists, and testing, but I was on my way to our last appointment and it was gone. Now, I’m a mom, I still have a Master’s in worry. But not the anxiety that daily threatened panic attacks, headache and nausea and kept me up all night. Just gone. Because it’s no longer for our good, and His glory.

7. His Timing. The blessing of seeing His intricate weaving play out over the past year and a half has been absolutely awe inspiring!! He is The Master Weaver! Some things, of course, were not apparent at the time. But He was always working, whether I saw it or not. Let me share the basics…

Master Weaver

When I noticed our daughter’s tremor, I brought her to her pediatrician. He immediately referred us to a neurologist. To my dismay, they were booked out three months! The pediatrician agreed this was too long to wait, and referred us to Children’s Hospital. They fit her in in two weeks and did testing to look for life threatening causes. When those tests came back okay, the neurologist said he knew of a neurologist that specialized in movement disorders and referred us to him. This neurologist was great and immediately started extensive testing. As each new symptom developed, more tests. No answers. When he had exhausted all modern medical testing he referred us to a geneticist at the University.

We received her first diagnosis six months ago. That geneticist sent us back to her neurologist .After extensive research, I questioned the amount of symptoms not explained by this disorder and much of the information was from research done by a doctor who was currently at Stanford. When we saw her neurologist he said he had actually worked with this doctor previously and would contact him for his opinion.

The doctor told her neurologist to have us contact the genetic counselor involved with his research, who happened to still be at the University! I ran into a road block trying to contact her via the labyrinth of menu options on their phone system and no one was calling me back. Explaining this to a friend, she said her daughter actually had that same geneticist and genetic counselor when she was diagnosed years ago…and got me her direct phone number. She called me back the next day and after hearing of our daughter’s symptoms, diagnosis, and age, recommended that we continue with the full genetic panel.

We were warned, that patients that had undergone the amount of testing as our daughter rarely got answers from this testing, but it would be a good idea to just make sure that we weren’t missing something treatable, as many of the patients with her diagnosis had multiple disorders. She did. When the results came back, this genetic counselor consulted with a neurologist that had, amazingly, seen two other patients at another facility with this disorder. Since it is extremely rare, 1 in 200,000, and maybe only around a hundred current cases in the United States, we were elated. Until we found out our oldest son had it too. But, this neurologist already knows where to find the medication, that it needs to have special approval by the FDA, and is looking into how to get it to us.

I was led to research that proved to me that the kids diagnosis at 8 and 12 is nearly unheard of. That  because of our daughter’s atypical presentation, our vigilance and persistence, they may be the youngest in the country receiving treatment. They literally don’t yet have a pediatric dose! Average age of diagnosis is 37, when they are disabled by mental retardation or psychiatric problems. Life span without treatment is 40-50 years. Many cases are diagnosed post mortum. Sobering. I don’t know why He allowed this into our lives yet. But I do know that He has given them the best possible chances of a good outcome. We suspected nothing with our oldest until getting Joelle’s diagnosis and reading about it. Without God’s perfect work in carefully weaving this together, we could very easily have had a much more awful outcome. Now, would I have liked Him to cure these babies? Absolutely. But that’s because I can’t see the finished work. We are just a strand in it. But He can, and what a blessing is that?!

The Gift In The Concrete

/ bobbiblanchard / 4 Comments

The  last year and a half has been hard. Really hard. Watching your once “normal”, healthy, eight year old decline and helplessly standing by while dozens of tests and specialists tell you they don’t know what’s wrong has a way of slowly turning a parent inside out. You know it’s something serious, and you relentlessly pray for answers, but when you get them, you’re still grossly unprepared for the reality of it.

We now have TWO answers and I don’t like either one. The first is called Spinocerebellar Ataxia Type 8. Rare, genetic, degenerative, and would slowly rob her of her mobility over about fifteen years. You can see my blogs, The Dark and Alibaster Jar if you’re interested in seeing where that brought me. The second, newest, is Cerebrotendinous Xanthomatosis. I held it together slightly better (growth?) the second time around. See Hope . Also rare, genetic, and progressive, this one explains her cognitive decline, personality changes, leg pain, etc. The good news is that this one has an available treatment. The idea being to replace what her body isn’t making and pray that we can maintain normal numbers and stop the progression. The bad news is that each of our boys has a 25% chance of having this disorder as well and we are waiting on their genetic test results.

I’ve blogged a lot about the pain, loss, and grief over this journey but He has faithfully brought me through and given me so much love, truth, and hope. Everything I need, when I need it most. Thank you Jesus! The last couple weeks I’ve been struggling through something a little less dramatic. Sadness. The kind of sadness that hovers silently in the shadows of my mind while joy, excitement, hope, love, fatigue, frustration and worry bump around the rest of the space in there, jostling for position. It’s heavy presence is always there. Waiting. Just waiting, for worry or frustration to bump up against it, form an alliance, and squeeze hot tears out of unsuspecting eyes. I’m finding this happens most often when I come face to face with our present reality. Without having a chance to brace myself first.

The other day we were tackling 3rd grade homework when frustration and worry ganged up on me with sadness. We spent an hour repeatedly going over which hand was the hour hand and which hand was the minute hand. Something she had mastered in first grade. Abstract concepts are next to impossible with her short term memory impairment. Twenty minutes later, her newfound impulsiveness led to a screaming toddler and crying 8 year old because she had gotten frustrated, pinched him, and immediately felt terrible. At bedtime, she told me she didn’t want to go to Sunday school because she got confused. There was truly less light in my baby girl’s eyes! By the time I went to bed, I was in tears.

Father, PLEASE! Please don’t let us lose the compassionate heart you blessed her with too! Please don’t allow this disorder to rob her of the ability to understand the huge faith you’ve given her! This heart, this faith, that have been such a source of hope and comfort. Such a gift of grace to us!

Sadness dogged me the next morning and followed me through her occupational therapy session which left her tremor worse, her body sweating and exhausted, and her complaining of the pain in her legs. And as I broke out the Motrin:

“Mom, I’m sad.”

She has a few things to be sad about. “Why are you sad, baby?”

“I’m sad for all of the people that lived before God gave us Jesus.”

Her compassionate heart! But that’s a pretty abstract concept to grasp. Does she really get it?

“I wish He could have helped them get to Heaven too. But I’m sure happy that we were born after Jesus!”

Smiling through tears. “Me too baby girl, me too.”

Tear filled eyes closed and lifted to a bitterly cold Midwest winter sun, being covered in His grace and love, my heart cried out my thanks for a gift so beautiful!

I have little difficulty with the abstract. I’ve been blessed with an exceptional memory. I have no physical challenges. I’m pretty sure I aced third grade word problems involving reading a clock. But, I didn’t know the Gospel until I was in my thirties, and I struggled to understand and accept the love of my Savior for longer than I care to admit. (It really is a kind of illogical love, isn’t it?!) And I’m too embarrassed to disclose how long it took my heart to bleed for those that were, and are, perishing. Her existence in the concrete, the present, has apparently not hindered her faith, or her compassionate heart in the slightest. It begs the question, which one of us truly has a greater challenge?!  He will make clear to her all she truly needs to know, just as He will for me.

Baby girl, you bring that beautiful heart and concrete faith, I will bring the abstract, and we will grow in Christ together!

 

1 Corinthians 12:4-11New International Version (NIV)

4 There are different kinds of gifts, but the same Spirit distributes them. 5 There are different kinds of service, but the same Lord. 6 There are different kinds of working, but in all of them and in everyone it is the same God at work.

7 Now to each one the manifestation of the Spirit is given for the common good. 8 To one there is given through the Spirit a message of wisdom, to another a message of knowledge by means of the same Spirit, 9 to another faith by the same Spirit, to another gifts of healing by that one Spirit, 10 to another miraculous powers, to another prophecy, to another distinguishing between spirits, to another speaking in different kinds of tongues,[a] and to still another the interpretation of tongues.[b] 11 All these are the work of one and the same Spirit, and he distributes them to each one, just as he determines.

 

WANTED:Storytellers

/ bobbiblanchard / 11 Comments

Fellow Believers and Storytellers,

I am in need of some assistance. I have found myself with a serious case of what I can only describe as spiritual ADD. Okay, admittedly, this extends further than than just my ability to read, interpret, and apply His word. Ever since our daughter’s latest test results came back I find myself having difficulty with focus again. Any brainpower I seem to possess is used up on things like showering and trying to keep track of the day and time, which keep getting away from me. Add to that the mountains of research and questions I’m trying to process in moments of clarity I find myself staring at my Bible but not fully comprehending what I’m reading.

But, because God is so good, and aware of the inner workings of the mind He created in me, I found myself indescribably relieved that when I attended a Dwelling Place gathering at our church, during which some beautiful women gave their testimonies I not only was able to process what they were spelling out for me, but was greatly encouraged by their stories!

So, I am praying that you would be so kind as to give me some of your time. To provide me with that with which I’m not able to do for myself right now. If you would be willing to read through a few of my blog posts and prayerfully consider any blogs you are following that might encourage me during this part of my journey, or, comment with some scripture that has proved useful to you during your own journey I would greatly appreciate it!

Blessings,

Bobbi

 

Psalm 66:16  

New International Version (NIV)

16 Come and hear, all you who fear God;
    let me tell you what he has done for me.

Hope

/ bobbiblanchard / 4 Comments

I have spent the last three days in a place too closely resembling the dark. I’m sure the details of which will come pouring out in a later blog, but for now, I thought I’d take advantage of the insomnia and a brief moment of clarity while treading water to share a small, yet significant, light bulb moment.

I have discovered, unfortunately, that there is something about pain and loss that makes me incredibly near sighted. Not the kind of near sighted I had fixed by a gifted ophthalmologist a few years ago, but the kind of near sighted that makes it virtually impossible for me to see past my own haze of pain and loss, to the world around me and the kingdom above me. Let me see if I can string enough words together to explain.

There is the kind of pain that explodes into your life with such force that you can’t believe that people within a two mile radius didn’t feel the reverberations. That makes you surprised that everywhere you look, people are just continuing on about life as if the world hasn’t actually slowed to a near stand still. They are going to work, buying groceries, and watching TV as if the searing hot white blast that is still causing your ears to ring and the breath to leave your lungs never happened.

There is the kind of loss that creates such a Huge void in your life that it sucks down with it things like laughter, days of the week, people’s names, prior commitments, and the ability to multi task. You stand at the edge of this vortex desperately trying to keep hold of your sanity with a white knuckled grip on HOPE. And sometimes that pain, it’s sucked down with the loss for awhile too. I believe it’s called “shock”.

But that HOPE I’m gripping? It’s not truly in my hands. It’s in the hands of my Savior. Or rather, at the foot of His cross.

This past Sunday, our message was titled, “Christ Centered Hope”. And I was blessed with the reminder of this message today. I’d like to say that my brain was functioning well enough that I remembered it myself. But alas, this information was in the fuzzy area obscured by pain and lost somewhere in the void. No, when I frantically searched for a piece of paper to write down our latest diagnosis and testing appointments, this conversation guide was closest at hand. Thank you God!

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Colossians 3:1-2New International Version (NIV)

3 Since, then, you have been raised with Christ, set your hearts on things above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. 2 Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things.

So, where is my HOPE? Is it centered on the transient things of this world like finances, relationships, and health? Or is it focused on the HOPE in Christ?

Today, I am struggling to remind myself where I need to place my hope. I am struggling to see further than the pain and loss. Today, I am incredibly near sighted. But I’m also incredibly grateful that He is meeting me where I am and occasionally breaking through that haze to remind me that this is not my home, and my hope is not in my hands, but seated at the right hand of God. And He is with me.

For anyone reading who is struggling through the near sightedness of pain and loss, to see further than the grief:

Psalm 119:114  New International Version (NIV)

114 You are my refuge and my shield;
    I have put my hope in your word.

Isaiah 40:31  New International Version (NIV)

31 but those who hope in the Lord
    will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
    they will run and not grow weary,
    they will walk and not be faint.

Pray First

/ bobbiblanchard / 8 Comments

I just got an invitation to our church’s second annual “Pray First” breakfast. This time last year I took a look at my prayer life. Yes, I had made significant progress, but, was I praying first?? I wanted to! So often I found myself in the evening, worn down from all of the NEEDS and distractions, and messes. Thankful for the exhausted quiet that permeated the house. And lamenting every poor word choice, missed opportunity with the kids, and things I didn’t accomplish. When I stumbled, exhausted, into our bedroom, listening to Hubby’s rhythmic snores and the static of the baby monitor… I’d finally pray. And because this was the first time today, it took awhile! And because it was the first time today, half of my prayer was confession of every thing I did wrong that day. And begging for help for the next! So, was there room for improvement? Boy Howdy!!

But what does that look like? Realistically? Let me paint you a word picture.

I was blessed with two boys, who since crossing the threshold as squalling, wrinkled infants subscribed to the whole “early bird catches the worm” nonsense. I place the blame for this affliction squarely on Hubby’s broad shoulders. His mother confessed (after we were safely married) that until puberty Hubby also had the bizarre notion to rise with the sun. Now, our amazing daughter and I would happily stumble into our day at a much more reasonable hour, like lunch time.

So,even though I’m routinely woken up by a demanding toddler at the indecent hour of 5 a.m., this does not mean my brain is actually functioning. It goes something like this.

5 – Retrieve toddler, three “favorite” blankies and try to convince him to watch cartoons in my bed and stay quiet. Retrieve waffle. Retrieve milk. Change soggy diaper.

6 – Oldest boy wakes up. Send him to try matching again (also Hubby’s affliction). Sign folder. REMIND. Wash face, with soap. Brush teeth. Try again. Put deodorant on. Help him find socks, that match. Violin. Kindle. Coat. Eat your breakfast!! Out the door! 

7 – Wake up sleepy daughter.Repeat basic procedure minus the matching difficulties and add in time for the four feet of hair. Dress uncooperative toddler. Retrieve a dozen toys he needs to bring with.

8 – Out the door!

8:10 – Send daughter back in for her backpack.

8:15 – Everyone is strapped into their seats!

This is it! I close the passenger door, brain is functioning, I breathe that sigh of relief. If you’re a parent, you know the one. When they’re all buckled in and no one can escape and it’s QUIET!

Before I get in I realize, this is my moment! I stand shivering in the cold, watching my breathe come out in little white wisps of winter air and look at the sun He has given me today. I close my eyes and thank Him for car restraints, for helping me through a morning of chaos in which I’ve done nothing they’ll later pour out on a therapist’s couch, for the opportunity to care for this crazy family He’s given me. And ask for His guidance for the rest of the day, etc. At this point the natives are restless and a squabble is starting. Renewed, I get in the van, explain that Mommy needed a minute with Jesus, and tell them to turn on the Veggie Tales!

A funny thing happens when I “start” my day this way. During the ride to school I’m singing, out loud  (much to their dismay), songs of worship instead of mentally going over my list for the day. I get home and take advantage of Sesame Street and take a shower. But instead of rushing through my routine, to get to my chores, I take the time to put on the armor of God.

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This small amount of scripture, given to me at a Dwelling Place meeting at church, has helped ground me in His Word more mornings than not.

Sporadically throughout the day, when I’m counting backwards from ten for the tenth time, when I open that enormous unexpected medical bill, when I get that phone call, that threatens to send me into waves of anxiety and fear I am slowly remembering to stop and pray first. Do I do this perfectly? Not even close. But when I do, I’m rewarded with the reminder that I am not alone. That this place is not my home. That He will use all of this and make it good! And my thoughts are centered not on myself, but on the One who made me. Thank you Jesus!!

Someday. Someday when these whirlwind mornings become a thing of the past, I will miss it. Someday when I no longer need sheets of paper in my bathroom with life sustaining scripture just to catch a few minutes of His Word, or a broken piece of Alibaster jar in my purse to remind me who I’ve surrendered my whole mess to, or a blue bracelet on to remind me to believe Him, and I pass into that next phase I can’t wait to see how my prayer life grows!

Until then, I will continue to hunger and thirst for every drop of Truth and Love and Light He gives me, in whichever form I need to do it. Standing outside my van, at my bathroom sink, digging through my purse, at my kitchen counter, and be so very thankful that He continues to meet me where I am, as I am.

Do you pray first? And what does that look like for you?